It might have been a quarter of an hour, though to Joan it seemed an

endless time, until footsteps and voices outside announced the

return of Blicky.

He held by the arm a slight man whom he was urging along with no

gentle force. This stranger's face presented as great a contrast to

Blicky's as could have been imagined. His apparel proclaimed his

calling. There were consternation and bewilderment in his

expression, but very little fear.

"He was preachin' down there in a tent," said Blicky, "an I jest

waltzed him up without explainin'."

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"Sir, I want to be married at once," declared Kells, peremptorily.

"Certainly. I'm at your service," replied the preacher. "But I

deplore the--the manner in which I've been approached."

"You'll excuse haste," rejoined the bandit. "I'll pay you well."

Kells threw a small buckskin sack of gold-dust upon the table, and

then he turned to Joan. "Come, Joan," he said, in the tone that

brooked neither resistance nor delay.

It was at that moment that the preacher first noticed Joan. Was her

costume accountable for his start? Joan had remembered his voice and

she wondered if he would remember hers. Certainly Jim had called her

Joan more than once on the night of the marriage. The preacher's

eyes grew keener. He glanced from Joan to Kells, and then at the

other men, who had come in. Jim Cleve stood behind Jesse Smith's

broad person, and evidently the preacher did not see him. That

curious gaze, however, next discovered the dead man on the floor.

Then to the curiosity and anxiety upon the preacher's face was added

horror.

"A minister of God is needed here, but not in the capacity you

name," he said. "I'll perform no marriage ceremony in the presence

of--murder."

"Mr. Preacher, you'll marry me quick or you'll go along with him,"

replied Kells, deliberately.

"I cannot be forced." The preacher still maintained some dignity,

but he had grown pale.

"I can force you. Get ready now! ... Joan, come here!"

Kells spoke sternly, yet something of the old, self-mocking spirit

was in his tone. His intelligence was deriding the flesh and blood

of him, the beast, the fool. It spoke that he would have his way and

that the choice was fatal for him.

Joan shook her head. In one stride Kells reached her and swung her

spinning before him. The physical violence acted strangely upon

Joan--roused her rage.

"I wouldn't marry you to save my life--even if I could!" she burst

out.




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